Poké Wars: The Lapidescence (Subsistence Redux)
by Cornova
Summary: We were so blind. Now in our end of days, it's like seeing for the first time. Now everybody's true self comes out. We see how far we're willing to go to live. Worse is what we didn't wanna see: what was there all along. The creatures we thought we had conquered are gone, and what's left in our pockets are monsters.
1. Cats In The Cradle

**Okay, so I was originally trying to release this chapter by New Years so that it could be symbolic or something, but between holidays, sicknesses, and writer's block that clearly wasn't a possibility. Sorry for the wait, but I hope you'll feel like this is worth it. **

**So my current job allows me quite a bit of free time lately. At first I figured I'd fill in the time with reading, but as the months went on I started running out of books to keep my interest and keep me busy. Then it occurred to me that I could be working on poke wars with all of this free time. In fact, I could focus on something that I had been putting off for quite some time: Revamping the Subsistence and Coalescence.  
>It's been nearly 7 years since I've worked on my first arcs following Ash. I figured that I could polish up those arcs to match the quality of some of my more recent works. My style has changed a bit over the years, for the better, I hope. Over the years I did try to polish the first few chapters, but what I was about to attempt would be a massive rehaul.<br>So I'm at work, going through the Subsistence, pulling out lines that I see are terrible and putting in better lines in their place. Yet halfway through the chapter I realize that no matter how well I make parts of the story sound, the plot is unsalvageable.  
>It's crap, complete and utter garbage. Out of the 193 pages that comprise the Subsistence, I was able to salvage 40 or so pages that were made up of sentences I thought were decent.<br>You can stud a turd with gemstones, but it's still a turd in the end. The concept as a whole and certain sentences were decent, but my first two arcs are painful for me to read. This message to all of you is in part, an apology. You all deserve a better quality story and I'm honestly surprised that I was allowed to get away with so many things that I wrote. An abundance of plotholes, spelling and grammar errors galore. Dozen of moments where the characters are out of character because back then the fic was more personal wish fulfilment than an actual story.  
>I really appreciate the reviews you guys have sent me over the years, but at the same time I respect those who are willing to call me out on my flaws, as those who have done so in the past can tell you. Some of you may have already heard this story, but for those of you who have been with me since the beginning may remember the first chapter of the legendary arc, the Incipience, that I posted and took down. It was one review that did it for me and I consider a turning point for my writing. It took everything that I wrote and tore it apart and the worst part about it was that everything about that review was right. I was afraid to write for a good while, but there was still a story to tell and I wanted to see this through to the end unlike so many other things in my life. From that point on I made sure I could back up my work and decisions with the actual source material and research, because in the end, you guys deserve a better caliber of story.<br>On that note, I think it's best to let you know the other reason I wrote this message. As much as I dislike it, my first arcs, my first works, are undeniably the face of Poke Wars. Everyone who starts the series reads or prefers to read Ash's dealings with the undampening first and if they make it through that, then they move onto my later and better works. But I feel that more often than not I have lost people in this area, people who did not continue or did not review and have judged the rest of the work by the quality of my first two arcs. So, I'm rewriting it. Both the Subsistence and the Coalescence shall no longer be considered canon. This newer version will be like the Exigence was a rewrite of the original Johto Arc that initially was part of The Subsistence. Some things will stay the same, many things will be different. I will still be working on the Convalescence, Truculence, and other arcs alongside this one. For those of you who liked the original version, I hope then that this new version will be even more entertaining. One major change will be this. When I started working on this, I was scared to kill off characters and their Pokémon. As the years have gone on you've probably noticed that this is no longer an issue.  
>Know this.<br>If they have not been expressly mentioned in the Convalescence or The Pokémon They Carried, they are fair game now.  
><strong>

**I would be remiss to not also give credit where credit is greatly due. The full splendor of this chapter would not have been possible without Zarrelion betaing this chapter for me. **

**With that, let's begin.**

* * *

><p><strong>August 15 <strong>

"_Da moon's beautiful tonight_," Meowth thought to himself, his view of the silver sphere broken only by the dark wisps of cloud that darted past his field of vision. "_I wonda if Meowsie's lookin' up too?_" It was a question he had asked himself at every full moon he saw; a question that still remained unanswered — and would likely remain that way for as long as he lived. She not only demolished the relationship, she burnt its foundations; he was never to be with her.

_So why do I still tink of her?_

The years had seen fit to dull the parts of his mind that held the details of her face. Piecing her visage from memory alone was like trying to paint on water. Within him, his emotions battled: part of him begged to know what she looked like; while the other part shouted it down with the simple retort "Who cares!?"

It wasn't the first time he'd started to forget what she looked like and it wasn't until the trip back to that town that his memory of her had been refreshed. "_It's been three years_," he reminded himself, as if to justify his own struggle to dig up her image.

Three years since his duel with Persian for Meowsie's love and eventual rejection.

Four years since they started following one kid and his electric starter.

Four years of failure and involuntary flights across the regions they traveled.

The thoughts were automatically shifted to the back of his mind, joining the dark closet where other negative thoughts languished until they're forgotten. It was a coping mechanism the team had learnt early on; dwelling on their failures was a weight they didn't need to carry to fulfill their missions.

It was better to simply forget their losses and focus on the next scheme; it was easier on their morale and spirit. Meowth imagined they'd all have quit long ago if they hadn't come up with that type of mental discipline.

There were times where they wouldn't even wait to land to start plotting. Tonight was not one of those nights. Tonight was silent, save for the wind rushing past their ears. Nights were some of the better times to blast off, if only because of the chance they had to see the moon and stars in their infinite beauty. Daytime blast-offs only promised a blinding sun beating down on them with its oppressive heat.

_But not tonight. Tonight we got dis view_.

Meowth sighed and opened his eyes; a soft smile touched his lips when the stars winked back at him, almost cheering them on.

_We should do our gig at night more often_.

Blasting off had been rough at first. Over time they grew accustomed to — even reveling in —their temporary weightlessness. Their acrophobia and discomfort at their inability to control their speed of flight and launch had long since vanished. Instead, they focused on the positive part: being the rare few privileged to fly without machines or Pokémon.

Unfortunately, one flaw remained. Without any sort of guidance system, they had no idea about when or where they were going to land.

Enough time had elapsed to be able to laugh about the old days. Newer members to their group were snapshots of the past. Indeed, blasting off had in some way been co-opted as a rite of passage for the group

Meowth turned his head to his teammate, soaring through the sky at his side. Periwinkle locks fluttered in the wind that tugged at his white jumpsuit, windblown ripples formed over the white plain. Jade green eyes gazed into the night sky; his face was serene as he drank in the starlight.

While the sight of moon brought him memories of Meowsie, Meowth had no idea what it invoked in Jessie and James. The years had brought them somewhat closer but his partners weren't entirely keen on divulging what had gone on in their lives. For each member of the trio, the lives of the others were like a jigsaw puzzle with the majority of the pieces missing; you could make out a few distinct images but there were large blanks and single puzzle pieces between those images.

A look to his right brought Jessie — crimson hair resolute against the raging gale — into view. While James had sported a determined stare, Jessie's eyes were somber and blank. It was a look that Meowth was unaccustomed to seeing; in fact, it was downright disturbing.

There was always flame within her eyes. Sometimes it blazed like the Firebird herself. Still other times, it guttered and wavered under an invisible wind. But regardless of what happened, that internal blaze never, ever went out. Whenever their motivation weakened, her blazing glare rekindled it. But now, her burning gaze was just a mere cinder. Her half-lidded and unsettlingly calm eyes gazed into the sky.

"Jessie…you 'kay?" Meowth sputtered out.

Muted blue eyes slid over to look at him. Her lips opened to form words, only to have them stillborn in her mouth. Her stare bore the tinges of uncertainty; her lips pressed tightly together into a thin red line, almost as if she feared their betrayal.

"We're coming up on a mountain," James announced in the bored manner of a taxi driver. Unaware of the moment between Jessie and Meowth, he grabbed the Scratch Cat Pokémon by reflex. Jessie brought out her pokéballs, a flash of light marking the release of her Yanmega and Wobbuffet. Six black spindly legs wrapped around James' waist as Wobbuffet maneuvered himself beneath his trainer. Despite being routine, James still felt a small surge of adrenaline as the ground rose up to meet them.

Yanmega's wings hummed as she plunged towards the earth, lifting up just before they hit the stony mountain road. A plume of dirt rose into the air to mark Jessie and Wobbuffet's landing zone. James' feet were dangling just a few inches off the ground before Yanmega released him onto the road that wound along the mountainside. Meowth hopped out of his grasp and made his way towards the settling dust cloud.

Jessie lay at the edge of the crater Wobbuffet had made. Her eyes were closed and her arms at her sides with the earth against her back. From all appearances, it appeared that she was sleeping. But since they had just landed from one of their blast-offs, the truth was likely to be far less pleasant.

* * *

><p>"What happened?" Yanmega demanded, the buzzing of her powerful wings increasing in pitch and tempo. She stared daggers at the eyes on Wobbuffet's blue body.<p>

"I-I don't know! She was fine when we landed and then she just fell over!" the Patient Pokémon cried back.

* * *

><p>James was already kneeling over his partner. Unaware of the conversation being held around him, he scanned her body for any wounds. His confusion mounted when he found none.<p>

"Jessie, are you okay? Come on, talk to me!" he pleaded.

A weak smile flickered on her lips before she opened her eyes. Shimmering blue met green. "I'm not hurt," she said, her voice a petering breeze that brushed aside dead leaves.

"Jessie, what's wrong?"

Her gaze was aimed straight up, shifting slightly as if studying the clouds and night sky for her next words."…I'm tired," she replied, her look turning piteous when the words didn't seem to register.

"I know we were up pretty late tonight but it's nothing we haven—" James went on until the tips of Jessie's fingers gently touched his lips.

"That's…not what I'm talking about, James." She pulled her fingers back and gave him a searching look.

Layers of emotion lifted over his eyes in the silence that deepened between them. Realization gave way to shock, then disbelief, then confusion, until it hardened into disapproval. Entire years were conveyed through extended stares and blinks; memories and phantom conversations wordlessly passed between them.

"Jess, I know it's been rough lately, but we can't give up now. Not after all we've been through. We'll catch the twerp's Pikachu for sure next time, I know it."

That familiar fire roared to life within the blue pools of Jessie's eyes once more. She sat up and shoved him aside, already on her feet when he lost his balance and fell back. Yanmega buzzed angrily until Meowth held up a paw and motioned for her to sit this one out. The Ogre Darner Pokémon was new to the group, so she hadn't gotten completely accustomed to the team's dynamic. She noticed Wobbuffet made no move to intervene and the look on Meowth's face said all she needed to know.

"And what if you're wrong, James? What if we fail again? Are we going to do the same thing we always do? Are we just going to try again the next day? And the day after that? Just like we've been doing for months? Just like we've been doing for _years_!? When does it end, James? What do we have to show for all the years we've been after that twerp?" Jessie snapped, each word slashing the night like a razor blade.

"Where is this coming from?" The bluenette dusted his pants as he stood back up.

"Where do you think!?"

"We've had this argument a hundred times and we've never gotten anywhere with it." James was a few feet from Jessie now. He had positioned himself so his height served not to intimidate but to convey that he wasn't going to back down this time.

"That's the problem! We're not getting anywhere doing this! We haven't gotten anywhere for years! Aren't you tired of being a loser? Aren't you sick of getting so close to success and then just having it torn away from you over and over again?" Jessie's face was flushed, the piercing blue of her eyes dimming once again.

"Of course I'm tired! Who wouldn't be? I…I thought we should've stopped ages ago, but…" James trailed off.

"But what, James!?"

"You still kept going. We always followed your lead, Jessie. There were plenty of times I wanted to quit, plenty of times I wanted to cut our losses and do something else. But you kept pushing us to keep tailing that twerp."

The silence that ensued was almost worse than the yelling.

"Is that what you think?" Jessie's voice was low and icy-calm. "Is that what you both think?"

Jessie's fiery glare now turned on the cat pokémon. Jessie watched his eyes lower, wringing the fur around his wrists with his paws. Meowth had learned long ago that his input meant nothing when the arguments degenerated to this degree; in fact there were times where his words only served to inflame already hurt feelings.

A bitter and icy laugh emanated from the redhead. "Oh, so it's all_ my_ fault! You two are perfectly innocent, is that it? Fine, it's _all my fault_. I've been pushing you two into doing this entire time!"

She smiled a cruel, mocking smile. "And now, now that I want to stop, you want to keep going? That's rich!"

Her icy gaze locked onto James next. "Rich. Ha! That's perfect. Especially coming from you, James!"

"Where are you going with that?" James growled. His normally calm voice carried tone of menace that went unnoticed.

"If you've wanted to quit all this time, then you should've just left. Why don't you just quit Team Rocket while you're at it? You're the only one on this team with any actual family to go back to," Jessie spat. "Go on! Run back to Mommy, Daddy, and Jessebelle. Get married, be rich again, and maybe, if you ask nicely, they'll even buy you an actual spine!"

Meowth hardly believed his eyes when James slapped Jessie across the face and from the look in their eyes, neither did they. Echoes of her earlier scream were swallowed by the crisp sound of his glove against her face. The sound seemed to carry across the mountain and into the surrounding woods before eventually dissipating into the silence. Even then, some part of the sound continued to echo in their minds. Jessie stumbled back from the blow, her stunned expression aimed to the mountainside.

In all the years they had been together, James had never struck her like that. Part of Meowth wanted to believe that someone else had done it. The James he knew couldn't have pulled that off; it had to be someone else. James had always been placid and compliant, save for those tiny cracks.

He had endured bites from Victreebel, painful hugs with Cacnea and head nibbles by Carnivine without protest. Years of verbal abuse from his own teammates had been tolerated. Even the forced reduction of his beloved bottle cap collection had been somewhat taken in stride. It was then that Meowth realized that despite everything the world had thrown at him, no one had ever actually truly set James off. But when Jessie threw his pedigree in his face, she had crossed the line.

The only sound now left was James' breathing, the angry expression on his face held for a few seconds before dissolving into concern. He stared at offending hand, then back to Jessie, then back to his hand.

"Jessie…I'm sorry! I just…I got so angry I…I wasn't thinki—" James' apology was cut short when his partner's boot slammed into his stomach. Yanmega's wings gave off a hum that Meowth could only assume was satisfaction while Wobbuffet was still gaping from the initial slap. James roared when her heel dug into his gut until he grabbed her ankle, backing away with her leg in tow until she lost balance and fell.

Jessie swiped at his ankles with her free leg, bringing him to his knees. A punch to his face was exchanged for a full body lunge. Soon, the two were sprawled out on the mountain footpath as they furiously wrestled.

* * *

><p>"Are we really going to let them do this?" Wobbuffet asked.<p>

"Sometimes ya gotta jus' let'em get it outta dere system," Meowth replied, his face grim as he watched his partners roll across the ground. The fight didn't last long, a few minutes at best. The two weren't fighters by any stretch of the imagination. James sat on Jessie's stomach, pinning her wrists to the ground.

* * *

><p>"You're wrong Jessie," he panted; the shimmer in his eyes made her struggles against his grip cease. "I don't have a family to go to if I leave Team Rocket. In spite of everything, you are my family, Jess. You. Meowth. Wobbuffet. Our pokémon. They're all family to me. So don't you dare tell me to leave!"<p>

James's composure shattered with the last word, his hands slid from Jessie's wrists to hang at his sides. An anguished sob left his lowered head, shoulders shuddering with each heave until he teetered and fell onto his side. Jessie lay where she had been pinned, taking deep breaths to calm herself. Whatever thoughts were going through her head seemed determined on cracking her resolve if her glistening eyes were any indication.

"I can't keep doing this." Her voice hitched; the words were like a realization, confession, and declaration all in one. "_We_ can't keep doing this," she hastily added. "I feel like I'm wasting my life on this chase. I've given years of my life to this mission. I know I can't get those back but I'll be damned if I give any more. If you want to keep going at this…I won't stop you."

Jessie blinked back the tears and failed, letting them flow down the sides of her face and mix with her makeup. She didn't care anymore; she was sure she already looked like hell and tears weren't going to make her look any worse than she already felt.

The night air grew silent once more. The sting and aches of the duo's cuts and bruises was their only comfort.

Eventually the silence was broken when Jessie gave a long and exasperated sigh, almost as if she were deflating. "I'm sorry, James. I shouldn't have said that earlier. I know it's a sensitive subject and I'm sorry I brought it up. I guess I just never understood how you could throw it all away. I mean, we saw with our own eyes what your parents and fiancée are like."

The trio visibly shivered in unison at the memory, leaving Yanmega and Wobbuffet to wonder at the horrors they had seen. "But for all that money…" Jessie's voice trailed off, her eyes closing when she spoke. "I think about how my life would've been different if we'd switched places. You didn't want people choosing your life for you but growing up I wish I had someone to point me in a direction. I didn't know what I wanted to do with myself. Everything I tried blew up in my face and sent me back to square one. Life was hard for me; I begged, stole and scavenged just to get by. Even eating snow when things were desperate."

"You're not the only one who knows what that's like. I wasn't always in the lap of luxury," James muttered.

"Right…" Jessie whispered back, clearly having forgotten that James had tasted a bit of what she had gone through. "I joined Team Rocket because I figured I'd follow in my mother's footsteps and in a way I'd feel close to my mother again. They told me that she was the boss's greatest agent and how she never gave up on a mission.

"Those were some big shoes to fill. I wasn't like that at all. I gave up on anything the moment I failed it and I didn't want this to be one of those times. That's probably why we've been at this for so long. In the end, her vaunted tenacity, was what ended up killing her."

Jessie sighed as she recalled her mother's memories. "As much as I love her, I don't want to walk down that same path. I'm not going to waste my life to this job."

No one spoke for a good while. What could any of them say? James had been trying to run away from his old life and Meowth was just trying to find a way to put food in his belly. By comparison, their reasons for joining Team Rocket shriveled pathetically in the face of hers.

"…Okay." James eventually sighed.

"Okay what?" Jessie half-asked, half-demanded.

"If you want to quit chasing after that twerp and his Pikachu, I quit too. Wherever you go Jess, I'm coming with you. We're a team and I promised I would never let you down if I could help it."

"Me too," Meowth added, "No matta where ya go, I'm comin wit ya too."

"Me three!" Wobbuffet chimed in, which Jessie and James heard only as the cry of his own name.

A trio of weak smiles graced their features when the first fingers of dawn reached into the sky beyond the mountain.

"It's morning," James said wistfully.

"I guess we should get some sleep," Jessie said with a yawn, returning Yanmega and Wobbuffet to their pokéballs.

"We can call da boss fer help in da mornin," Meowth said through a yawn, plopping down next to them and settling down on the stone. They had slept in worse places and part of being a Team Rocket field agent was learning how to catch a few winks in any sort of terrain. Within minutes they were out cold and snoring up a storm, ignorant to the sun's slow but majestic arc across the sky.

* * *

><p>It was midday when they awoke. The cloudy skies above spared them the worst of the sun's harsh rays. But old habits die hard; the first thoughts to enter their minds were of the schemes they would pull on the twerps, until they realized they would no longer pursuing Pikachu. The realization was like a weight lifted, followed by concern with the uncertainty of their future.<p>

"Rest well?" James asked.

"Well enough, but I'm starvin'," Meowth chimed in.

"We left most of our food back where we caught the twerp and his Gligar," Jessie said with a sigh. As if for emphasis, three growling stomachs echoed through the rocky plain.

"I could try russlin' up some food from da berries in da forest." Meowth pointed his paw to the woods below.

"Take Yanmega and Wobbuffet with you, we'll contact the boss and see if we can get a ride."

Meowth nodded, awaiting the twin flashes of his companions before making his way down the mountainside. James fished into one of his back pockets and pulled out a comlink that connected them to command. Usually they phoned a special line to requisition costumes, equipment, Meowth balloons, and mechas for when they entered the next town. Traveling by balloon would be too slow for them to complete their cross-region journey timely manner. They had been ordering various materiels for years — long enough that Giovanni generally cleared their requests without a second thought. At least, as long as it wasn't too expensive.

Team Rocket R&D loved making and sending them the mechas they used for their daily schemes. They saw it as an opportunity to push their equipment to the breaking point and beyond. As a result, they expected detailed reports with regards to the mechas' performance and failure mechanism. Other methods of transport generally required Giovanni's clearance.

James and Jessie listened and waited while the device rang. Though they didn't voice it, they were grateful that this comlink was voice only; one could tolerate the disapproving and irritated glare that Giovanni transmitted through a vidlink for so long. The device crackled to life, asking them for their password which took the form of their motto. Once their voices had been recognized by the system and verified as being theirs, they were put through to Giovanni's office.

Strangely, what greeted them wasn't Giovanni's deep, electronically distorted voice. Instead, it was a woman.

"This is Sinnoh Team Rocket field agents James and Jessie; I believe we asked to be in contact with the boss," Jessie said into the device's mic.

"_I'm his secretary, Matori_," the voice replied, her tone cool and clinical. "_Giovanni is currently busy with other matters that require his attention at the moment. However, I may be able to assist you in his stead. What is your request_?"

"We're requesting transportation to Canalave City"

"_What happened to the Gliscor prototype that was sent to you_?"

"We found that it couldn't stand up to the real thing."

"_I see_," Matori replied, dragging out the last word as she perused through their profiles on her tablet. Slow and agonizing seconds of silence ensued, making them wonder whether the call had dropped or the other side had simply hung up.

"_Is there any particular reason you do not wish to simply use another Meowth balloon_?" she asked.

"We thought it better to get to the other side of the region as quickly as possible. We haven't been having too much luck in this part of the region," James replied.

"_Does this have anything to do with a certain electric pokémon_?" Matori asked as she scrolled through rows and rows of reports, each attributing their failure to one particular rodent.

"Technically it does," Jessie jumped in, "But we've decided that it would be better for the future of Team Rocket if we pursued something else. We're hoping the other side of the region hasn't heard of us yet and we'll be able to exploit that."

"_Please hold while I review your case._"

* * *

><p>Matori leaned back in her chair and sighed. She was almost afraid to scroll down any further, seeing that many of their reports dated back to before she had even been hired. It came as no surprise that her boss had either forgotten or out and out repressed the existence about these particular field agents. She leaned forward again, adjusting her glasses with the heel of her palm as she looked through their profiles on her tablet again.<p>

"They've been after this one Pikachu for years. Doesn't Giovanni already have several high-level Raichu? Why would he even need one Pikachu? They've repeatedly stated in their reports that this is no ordinary Pikachu…" Matori's eyes flitted back and forth across the lines of text. A list of pokémon the mouse had defeated had appeared, ranging from a Rhydon to a Regice.

"Interesting…though it doesn't really excuse so many years of misused funding. I'm surprised to hear Giovanni hasn't already fired them. Then again, we're not really in the position where we could let go of agents. We still need every bit of manpower we can get.

"There has to be some reason Giovanni is keeping them around. Okay, let's see. Jessie… Miyamoto was her mother? Her results during training were promising but found difficulty working with others until she was paired with her current partner. How about James…" Matori switched windows and brought up James's dossier.

The sheer number of times Matori had raised her eyebrows in such a short period of time practically etched lines into her forehead.

"Son and heir to his family estate and fortune; no wonder Giovanni's keeping him. Knowing him he's considered using him for ransom should he prove too much trouble to keep or as another way of eventually planting seeds into the Kantonian aristocracy." The woman read off James's dossier.

Matori reviewed the allocation of their funds. Most of their funds went to food, transport, costumes and field equipment.

"Apparently these two played a part in forcing Hoenn's Team Magma and Team Aqua to dissolve. According to the R&D department, their frequent field tests have provided some insight for improvements on the structural weaknesses of vehicles and equipment we actually use in the field. But even if I were to send them a transport, what could quickly make the journey from Kanto to Sinnoh and back?"

Matori minimized the profiles and opened up their inventory, glancing over several aircraft. Most of them were currently in use, either by the construction arm of Team Rocket, for transport or on other missions. Those that weren't being used lacked the range to make the trip. Waiting for one to be freed up would take too long and slow down both parties. It wasn't long before she found one particular model that caught her eye. It was listed as one of Giovanni's personal transports. Mechanically, it was in perfect shape but according to one of the notes on file it was put into storage for somehow reminding him of failure.

"That sounds like him," Matori said to herself. She read the specs of the craft. It was an interesting design — a hybrid of a helicopter and jet that combined the best of both aircraft: the speed and maneuverability of a jet with the vertical takeoff and hovering capability of a helicopter. Unfortunately, it came at the cost of high fuel consumption and maintenance.

"Taking the distance into the consideration, it should be able to make the trip there and back with minimal stops to refuel." The secretary examined the model of the aircraft and nodded. "It's probably too good for this team, but it's fast and should be able to get the job done quickly and quietly. Giovanni hasn't used it in years seeing as Dr. Zager was already designing a new aircraft for future operations in Unova. I doubt he'll miss this one."

Again, Matori examined Jessie and James's dossiers. "Granted, with their track record, I really shouldn't approve their request for this aircraft. But maybe I can send someone to take them where they need to go."

Matori closed the windows, sending a message to ping the first available pilot for a pick-up and drop-off mission.

"Canalave? Butch and Cassidy have reported rumors about a new team surfacing in that region. Most of their exploits have been regarding museum pieces. Its library is well-known for its vast archives of historical artifacts and tomes. These three may be onto something. They have the makings of a great team; this just may be their big break." Matori unmuted herself and took the call off hold.

* * *

><p>"<em>After looking through your profiles and history, I regret to inform you that at the present moment there are no available transports Giovanni can spare to send you for your personal use. However, I may be able to send someone to deliver you to your destination. Seeing as you utilized all of your funds on the last prototype you ordered, the cost for fuel and maintenance will be deducted from the next stipend you receive<em>."

"That'll do just fine," James replied, making no effort to hide the relief in his voice.

"How soon can we expect them to pick us up?" Jessie asked.

"_It may take some time for the transport to get to you from Kanto to Sinnoh. The earliest I can imagine it arriving would be tonight; the pilot will need to refuel at the coast before dropping you off. Please leave your device on so our satellites can locate you and send the coordinates to the pilot. Will that be all for today_?"

"That will be all for now," James said, waiting for the line to go dead before he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"Things are gonna change for the better." Jessie's hand landed on his own and made him smile.

"I found some grub!" Meowth called out and made their heads turn, followed by an angry buzz and a loud, "Woobb!"

"Okay! Okay! _We_ found some grub," the cat amended, dropping an assortment of berries on the ground before them. "How'dit go?"

"We got a ride, it'll be here tonight," Jessie replied.

"Whaddya wanna do 'til den?"

"We could work on a new motto, or maybe we could go back to the old one? It'll definitely sound new to people who aren't the twerps," James suggested.

"I don't think we've quite worn out this motto just yet," Jessie interjected, picking up a berry and holding up before them. "For now though, a toast to what I hope will be the last time we see the twerps."

James grabbed his own berry and held up as well, "To no longer blasting off after every failure."

"Ta actually bein da best membas of Team Rocket, 'an finally havin da boss be prouda us!" Meowth added, pressing his meal against theirs. Not to be outdone, Wobbuffet added his berry to the mix and ultimately had the last word with the utterance of his name.

"Cheers!" they cried and raised the fruit to their lips.

* * *

><p>At some point while they had waited Jessie had fallen asleep, her head resting in the crook of her partner's neck and shoulder. If James minded, he said nothing and rested with his cheek pressed against the top of her head. Meowth's body was sprawled across the ground beside them, snoring softly and masking the distant sound of the rotor blades until it drew closer.<p>

They began to stir once the sound grew louder, but it wasn't until they were sprayed with gravel and dirt that the slumber was truly torn from their eyes. The glossy H-shaped windshield faced them for a few seconds before it turned away to reveal the row of windows on the sides. Two ducted rotors flanking the craft pivoted as it gently touched down on the rocky ground.

The door slid open as they approached, revealing a spacious interior with enough room to comfortably fit at least eight agents. Meowth recognized the model as the type that had chased him and his clone during a siege against Mewtwo in the Johto region. That version was armed with a chin-mounted paralysis turret whereas this one appeared to be unarmed. Once the trio was inside and seated, the side door slid back into place and the whine of the engines spooling up echoed through the cabin.

"Thanks for the pickup." James yawned; the pilot's response was the press of a button that shut the door between their section and his, his back turned to them the entire time. While roomy, the chairs were built with numerous sharp right angles. James had tried several positions before simply giving up and doing his best to nod off while sitting upright. It quickly became a fruitless effort when the slightest rumble shook him back to consciousness.

James wondered how late it was, if only to gauge how long he would need put up with shifting in and out of sleep. From what he could see there were no visible clocks, leaving only the cockpit with a taciturn pilot. Whether by instinct or choice, Jessie's body had slowly migrated over to him once more. The high altitude and night air made him slightly grateful for the warmth. Slightly, if only because of what her proximity did to him.

It had taken everything in his power to keep his cool when he had first seen Jessie during their Team Rocket training. At first he had thought Jessebelle had found him again. The thought of escaping the premises had entered his head numerous times. At that moment, it seemed as though nowhere in civilized society was safe from his fiancée and parents.

It wasn't until Sergeant Viper prompted Jessie to speak that he felt some of the tension leave his body. Despite her fervent desire to marry into his family, Jessebelle's headstrong personality demanded that everyone else change for her. Taking the time to remove her thick Southern drawl would've been too much effort for his sake. In comparison, molding James to her liking was child's play.

The resemblance was as frightening as it was uncanny, almost enough to make James wonder if somehow the two were related by blood. Even though their similarities were more than skin deep, there were certain differences that made her preferable than Jessebelle.

Jessie's skill with a chain (an artifact from her days as "Chainer Jessie") was much like Jessebelle's mastery of the whip. That said; Jessie had never used that skill against him, unlike his fiancée who saw her groom as a wild animal to be broken to her will. Like Jessebelle, Jessie had a temper that could only be described as "volcanic". As a result, Meowth and James were often the target of her fury. Compared to Jessie's explosive bursts of pique, Jessebelle's displeasure was cold and insidious; she did not lash out but instead, honed her anger into something with purpose and cruelty.

At first James was happy that his partner was his fiancée's spitting image. Not only did it keep the relationship strictly professional, it was a constant reminder of what he faced should he decide to leave Team Rocket. Jessebelle's face became a symbol of servitude and pain but over the years he had stopped seeing his fiancée when he looked at his partner in crime.

"_She looks so…calm_," James thought, unaccustomed to seeing the fiery woman so subdued and tranquil. Her lips parted slightly when she breathed, the ever-present lipstick was now wiped away.

_She really doesn't need it. If she only left her hair is down and_…

James shook his head as if to shake the impure thoughts from his mind._ I shouldn't be thinking about this. I'm not going to make things awkward between us. It's taken us years to be completely comfortable around each other and I'm not going to ruin that. What I have with her right now…it's probably the best thing I've ever had with another person. _

"_Dese two don't need de opposite sex cause dey got each odda._" Meowth's words from years back echoed in his mind. Meowth himself was snoring softly in one of the seats he had sprawled upon, absentmindedly scratching himself in his sleep.

"_I guess I just never understood how you could throw it all away_." Jessie's words echoed within his head.

_If there had been a way to get rid of Jessebelle, if I could have at least chosen who I wanted to marry…as long as I got married… would my parents even care who it was? They picked Jessebelle because they wanted me to shape up, but Jessie's always been the one to give structure to my life, to our missions at least. Would my parents be able to see that?_

A part of him knew they wouldn't. Regardless of whether Jessie could be good for him the way his fiancée was supposed to be; it was a choice he had made. And that automatically made it invalid. Jessie wasn't a noblewoman or even wealthy, making her chances at being a potential wife nonexistent.

_Would they even need to know it was her? We could get rid of Jessebelle and all Jessie would need to do is change up her hair and her voice. That wouldn't be difficult, it's not like we haven't dressed up and changed our voices to fool the twerps and the rest of the world. _

"_I gave up on anything that I ever tried and I didn't want this to be one of those times_," the redhead's voice again rang within James's head.

"Marrying you…it would be so much easier," James whispered, hoping everyone was too deeply asleep to hear him. A stray magenta strand of hair hung over Jessie's brow until he gently pushed it back behind her ear. She smiled and mumbled something drowsily, but James figured she must've been having a pleasant dream.

_If I had to marry someone, I can't think of anyone I would marry but her. Then again I don't really know any women besides her. Would she even marry me?_

"But for all that money…" The memory of Jessie's voice taunted him.

_She might. She would do it for the money. But we…we could be happy. We wouldn't need to do this anymore. I could inherit my family's fortune and estate and could even fund Team Rocket. We could support them in that way, it wouldn't mean she was giving up! _

Meowth's sudden screams derailed his train of thought and roused Jessie from her sleep. Before they could even ask him what was wrong, a flash from Jessie's pokéballs filled the room. When the light dimmed Wobbuffet, Yanmega, and Seviper appeared in the rows of seats behind them. Carnivine and Mime Jr. were next to appear on the rows of seats before them. But there was no head nibble from the grass type. That was the first signal that something was terribly wrong. Instead, what filled the void of the absent ritual were anguished screams straight out of their worst nightmares.

Meowth's claws were extended, carving into cushions with every cry. The stuffing bled out through the rips. His normally calm eyes were narrow slits, unfocused and wild like the raised hair and menacing stance he had suddenly adopted.

They had seen Meowth under the influence of several things over the years, but nothing compared to the feral creature that he had transformed into. Jessie suddenly felt James's arms wrap around her waist before he pulled her to the floor between the rows of seats where he joined her.

James's heart momentarily stopped as he felt the rush of air from a swipe of Meowth's claws that narrowly missed his head.

Yanmega pinballed off the walls, each impact leaving behind a large dent. The grotesque tattoo of a pokémon slamming against solid metal abruptly stopped when the Ogre Darner slammed into Meowth. In too much pain to stop himself, the Scratch Cat tumbled down the aisle until he collided with the bulkhead at the opposite end of the craft, mercifully rendering himself unconscious. Wobbuffet's lanky arms wrapped around his bloated blue body as he rocked like a demented metronome. Mime Jr. writhed on the floor, caught in the throes of this mysterious affliction. Carnivine opened his spiny maw and began firing Bullet Seeds, every spasm unleashing another salvo in a random direction. Some bounced harmlessly off the bulkhead; others punched holes in the aircraft's thin metal fuselage.

Seviper contorted and writhed, every convulsion caused his razored tail to swing wildly. Yanmega eventually stopped careening throughout the interior and settled for flailing in mid-air, vibrating her wings until it seemed that they had disappeared. The ensuing screech swallowed everyone's screams and blew out every window. The shattered fragments were sucked out into the ravenous emptiness outside and lost to the winds.

Whether an involuntary attack or a simple attempt to make the pain and noise stop, Carnivine unleashed a barrage of seeds at the Ogre Darner pokémon, heedless of whether anyone was in his path.

Unfortunately, Wobbuffet happened to be right in the line of fire. The Patient Pokémon shuddered with every projectile that ripped through him until he eventually succumbed to the barrage. His body teetered and eventually fell over into a pool of his own blood. Yanmega fared far worse. The near point-blank barrage of Bullet Seed had reduced Yanmega's body into something that best described as "chunky green sludge".

Bits of membranous wing fluttered about like morbid confetti, dancing to the raging hiss of air rushing out from the innumerable holes in the cabin walls. Streaks of lavender marked the frantic slashes from Seviper's tail, even his own body bore the scars of the thrashing. James watched as his Carnivine continued firing at random. The bluenette's eyes widened as the gaping maw faced him. He shuddered, awaiting the inevitable barrage of seeds that would tear through his body.

But they never came. A flash of gleaming black and purple bit deep into Carnivine's throat.

Carnivine's ovoid head rolled when it hit the floor, rocking back and forth before its jagged maw limply parted. Seviper's hisses grew weaker and weaker until a heavy thud and a clatter marked his fall. And an end to the chaos.

Jessie's heart was beating equally hard against James's own. While some small part of them enjoyed the other's presence and proximity, a larger part of them wanted nothing more than to stay still and hope the universe overlooked them.

Seconds stretched into eternities while James's mind was still in freefall. Wind whistled through the riddled walls and sparks rained from the remnants of the cabin lights. Jessie was the first to slowly rise off her partner and look around the room.

Meowth lay still against a large dent in the showing where he had hit the bulkhead. There was more red and purple than blue on Wobbuffet's body, his mouth and pseudo eyes unrecognizable with dozens of wet and crimson burrows that marred his body. Blood trickled down the Seviper's sleek obsidian scales, each wound another self-inflicted scar for the future.

Jessie ran over to the cockpit door. Her fear had been replaced by her Team Rocket training. On autopilot, she practically punched the button. The door creaked as its damaged motors struggled to open it. James watched his fellow field agent; he could see the muscles in her body tensed and ready to strike. She already knew which of the pilot's compartments had the medical kit; her worries of who could be actually saved would need to wait until she could try and treat them. It was as the doors began to part that Jessie noticed the holes that riddled the metal.

James watched his partner's initial attempt at a lunge and saw that the distance she traveled could've been measured in millimeters. Her stance shifted when she flinched; the determined look in her eyes faltered and gave way to surprise. One step away from the door became two, then three. When she said nothing James ran to her side, seeing what had stopped her in her tracks.

The clear windshield was covered with a red film and instead of the faint odor of hydraulic fluid and lubricants, there was the overpowering animal stench of iron.

The pilot's body was slumped over and sprawled across the controls; a single red light blinked amidst the cerise coated controls. The fact that the autopilot was still on gave them little comfort as they watched the blood trickle down the sides of his seat, feeding into the growing pool at the base.

James felt as though his blood had left his face the join the pool, his body suddenly cold and his head felt light. It wasn't his first time seeing blood; yet no matter how many times he saw it, any ounce of courage he had drained away with the blood from his face. Bile rose into his throat as he looked up from the pool and saw what had decorated the controls. Bits of plastic from the pilot's helmet were scattered amidst the brain and bone fragments that pasted the console. A series of blinking numbers caught his attention and finally gave James an answer to one of his questions.

It was 12:03 AM.


	2. Two For the Show

**This one's a bit of a doozy (darn feelings, taking up most of the chapter. Why I can't write about cold and unfeeling robots!). Ehem, anyway. There's a few things that are new. NobodiesHiiro has come out with another chapter to his sequel story, Poké Wars: A Hard Road To Follow. His story will eventually be merging with mine so give it a look. I personally love his writing of the first person perspective and If you haven't checked it out then I highly recommend it.  
><strong>

**I'd also like to take this moment to really thank Zarrelion for his help with this chapter. It's a really good blend of my writing and his and I'm incredibly grateful for his help over the years. My first two arcs didn't have a beta and I know my chapters wouldn't look nearly as nice if it weren't for his help. **

**If you're concerned that my will be taking time away from the other stories you shouldn't worry too much. I'm about 3/4ths of the way done with the next Truculence chapter (trying to work out some logistical problems), the next Lapidescence chapter is just under a thousand words, and I'm at about 4000 for the next chapter of the Incalescence.**

* * *

><p><strong>11:57 PM<strong>

* * *

><p>"<em>Just three more<em>," Dawn thought as she held up Johanna's first ribbon to the night sky. The priceless memento, its orange ribbons faded to a dusty yellow by the years, caught the dim moonlight; the still burnished medallion softly glowed in the light as if it were radiating old memories.

"I caught a Swinub a few days ago. He's always hungry, but he knows a few ice moves. I've already thought of a bunch of combinations with him and Buneary or even Piplup. Maybe I'll introduce you to him when we see each other again over videophone," she whispered into an imaginary telephone handset.

A small part of her practically heard her mother reply. Another part of her found the whole notion to be silly — childish even — but the whole rehearsal provided some comfort for Dawn

A bizarre buzzing snore briefly lifted the silence of the night before letting it rush back in like a wave upon the shore. Dawn stifled a giggle behind her hand as she stuffed the trinket into her bag with the other ribbons. She turned her gaze to the raven-haired trainer from Pallet Town, sleeping deeply beside his electric starter, Pikachu. Brock twisted and mumbled in his sleeping bag; wistful and unintelligible murmurs were all she could decipher from him.

"_You're lucky to have such good friends_," Johanna's phantom voice echoed in her head.

"You're right," she whispered back with a smile. Dawn never had siblings, but she couldn't help but feel that this is what it would be like to have older brothers.

Despite his quirks around other girls, Brock never ceased to impress her with his knowledge of pokémon and his skills as a cook. Ash's unyielding determination was admirable, never allowing an obstacle or setbacks to keep him down for long. It was the admiration of that persistence that kept some part of her going during the rougher patches of her own journey. That said, Ash's persistence often manifested itself in his laser-like focus on pokémon and related subjects. Talking to him about anything else was quite a difficult task.

Dawn's thoughts were broken when she noticed Pikachu's ears twitch in the stillness of the night. Normally, she'd pay no heed to it but since there was nothing else to notice, she turned her gaze towards the electric mouse's ears.

A muted groan issued from Pikachu's sleeping form. It wasn't a groan of pain — more like a groan from a bad dream or an uncomfortable sleep.

Dawn paid Pikachu no heed, until the muted crackling of electrical discharges grabbed her full attention. She noticed sparks beginning to dance across his fur as he began to twitch. Her stomach dropped as she realized that she was about to witness something horrible.

Bursts of light turned night into day. The silent night was shattered by a hellish symphony of groans and squeals. Brock and Ash woke up immediately, their grogginess rapidly traded for guarded glances.

Before the two of them could do anything more than watch, Pikachu darted away from them. He managed a few meters until he stumbled, slid across the dirt and rolled with his paws pressed against his temples as if trying to keep his head from bursting.

Piplup's cries tore Dawn's attention away from Pikachu. Whirling around, she was treated to the sight of bubbles pouring from the penguin pokémon's parted beak. But these bubbles sounded different, instead of a tiny _pop_, each burst bubble came with a thunderous roar. Wooden splinters and leaves flew into the air as each projectile impacted against the surrounding trees. The water starter's eyes were scrunched tight; every bubble sending his body into convulsions.

Ambipom's tails whirled around her body like whips. Each swing launched forth salvo of stars. Some of the stars shattered against the trees leaving glittering dust hanging in the air; others sliced through thick trunks, leaving faint red embers behind.

Chimchar's convulsions finally got the better of him as he curled into a ball. With a surge of heat that charred the nearby trees, flames enveloped his body. The fireball jittered for a brief moment before it rocketed deep into the woods, leaving a trail of burning debris behind.

The crash of falling trees briefly drowned out the tortured cries of the pokémon. At some point Dawn and the others had slipped out of their sleeping bags but stood frozen as they watched the grotesque tableau unfold.

Streaks of lavender flashed around Croagunk's head as he seemingly tried to split his own head open. Turtwig and Gliscor rammed into everything and anything nearby in a desperate attempt to make their pain stop; it was to no avail, the trees splintered under the savage blow, doing nothing to assuage their pain.

Pikachu's body had begun to grow brighter — almost as if there were a light within him. At the same time, the electrical hum that emanated from him grew to an almost deafening level. Ash suppressed his rising tide of fear as he approached his starter. He took no more than two steps before a small bolt struck his shoulder. A quavering yell escaped the trainer's lips before vicious spasms silenced him.

Brock rushed to catch the convulsing trainer and not a moment too soon. His legs buckled as if from a kick. Ash's head was thrown back as if by a blow from an invisible fist; his signature hat went flying over Brock's shoulder. Ash's arms seized and trembled, muscles jittering and lips contorted into a painful rictus.

Then, as if someone had hit an invisible switch, Ash collapsed into Brock's hold. The older trainer gently lowered him to the ground. In those brief seconds, they had never seen a more unsettling sight. It appeared that incredible strength of will and tenacity that had served Ash so well over the years had finally collided with the hard limits of his body.

Pikachu lashed out with whips of lightning, scorching the dirt and crowning the blades of grass with glowing embers. Dozens of electric tendrils arced from his body, tracing an unseen pattern across the forest floor, as if goaded to dance at his cries.

"Dawn, help me with Ash!" Brock roared over the din of the chaos, backpedaling as fast as he could with Ash's body in tow. The young coordinator stood frozen, blankly staring back into the breeder's squinted eyes.

Some part of her understood the words, but how to respond or put them to action drew up nothing in her mind.

"His legs!" he barked. "Grab his legs!"

A flash and a sudden chill broke her out of her trance; the sleeping bag she had been in only seconds ago was crowned with shards of ice.

Brock's command suddenly registered and she flew to his side, reaching down to grab Ash's ankles. Lifting him wasn't hard with Brock shouldering most of the weight; the difficulty came with knowing she was leaving her pokémon behind. Pale blue bolts of ice and stars darted across the corners of her vision. A glance over Brock's shoulder revealed the terrain ahead of them as a patchwork of ice and forest.

Stones and twigs bit through the fabric of her socks and into her skin; every yelp came as a reminder that all she had were literally the clothes on her back. A hesitantly raised and still shaky arm pointed back to the carnage they were fleeing from. Dawn gazed into Ash's eyes and although she could see herself in their glossy sheen; she knew his stare went straight through her.

Night turned into day once more as her shadow stretched ahead as if to steal a few more meters of safety. Dawn dared not look back, all her mental energies focused on blocking out the noise that begged her to turn her head out of morbid curiosity. Looking back would immediately destroy her mental fortitude. With every meter they put behind, the soundtrack of madness softened ever so slightly.

As their maddened flight lengthened, their steps shortened and slowed. Lured by the illusion of safety granted by their distance, they began to relax.

Only milliseconds after they let their guard down, the air around them exploded into a deafening roar. The flash and crash of thunder were seamless; the earth beneath their feet trembled as the wall of sound hit them and knocked them to the ground.

An incessant ringing had devoured all sound. Any noise they heard came muffled, as if through a wall or under water. In the darkness behind their closed eyes their awareness shrunk inward; the entirety of their world had regressed to the surface of their bodies. They lay on the ground for some time; heartbeats and strained breathing their only link to the passage of time.

It was as if their bodies feared to move at first; afraid of having the façade of safety ripped from them once more. Subtle details once overlooked stood out like beacons. As if to compensate for her temporary deafness, Dawn had become hyperaware of the dirt beneath her fingers, the fabric of Ash's shirt against her face and the sound of his thundering heart. She slowly pushed herself off of him. Brock took the sudden lessening of weight as his cue to wriggle out from underneath them.

Dawn and Brock moved about wordlessly, leaving the distant crackle of fire to fill in the gap of conversation. Brock's hand reached down to grab Ash's own as he helped him to his feet. He slung the arm over his shoulder while Dawn took the hint and did the same for the other.

After a few tentative steps, Ash was able to support some of his own weight. They lifted their heads up slowly and gazed into the woods, a foreboding silence hanging over them like a fog. The trip back to their campsite was long and slow. Not because of the distance they had fled, but because their morbid curiosity forced them to look at the ravaged forest around them and the tortuous path they had took through the woods.

Happiny was the first to be found, surrounded by a ring of fallen trees and shredded stumps. Brock was immediately at her side and on his knees; Ash and Dawn could only watch as he held her in his arms and whispered softly to her. Dawn watched his hand tremble as it hung over her mouth to feel her breath. His attempts to put on a neutral face had already begun to crack.

"Brock…is she…" Ash's voice trailed off, his expression starting to darken at the implication.

The tension suddenly lifted from Brock's shoulders as a smile of relief softened his features. "She's okay. She's breathing. It just looks like she's unconscious." Brock returned the playhouse pokémon to her poke ball.

"Thank goodness." Dawn sighed, bringing her free hand to rest on her chest as if to still her beating heart. Ash smiled and let out a breath that he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"I think we should split up to find our pokémon," Ash said. Two sets of eyes bored into him with a gaze that was incredulous, concerned and angry.

"I dunno, Ash. I don't think you should be walking around too much; that last attack looked like—" the bluenette began.

"Guys, it's okay. I'm fine. I can walk without your help." Ash shrugged off Dawn's arm and took a few shaky steps but was able to stand without issue for a full minute.

"We should still make our way back to the campfire so we at least we know where to come back to," Brock said. Ash and Dawn nodded their assent as they made their way over to his side.

* * *

><p>Smoke wafted lazily from their belongings in the clearing, the scene eerily calm compared to what had transpired moments before. Astoundingly, none of their personal items appeared too worse for the wear, save for some minor scorching. Ash burst into a sprint at the first sight of yellow, halfway to his destination, his muscles gave out as he stumbled and fell to the ground. Dawn and Brock both cried out his name as they ran over to assist him.<p>

But it was to no avail; Ash silenced the calls of his own name as his vision narrowed down to that yellow lump on the scorched earth. He inched his way over to Pikachu's fallen form; the electric mouse's back was to him and his tail lying flat against the ground.

He reached out but a single spark launched off the starter's fur making him unconsciously flinch away. The trainer stood frozen over Pikachu's body. Seconds ticked by until a solid minute of stillness and silence had passed.

Brock was about to warn the trainer against touching Pikachu; a single look at Dawn would have indicated that she was about to echo his message. Indeed, she was about to speak her mind until Brock placed a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. That simple action stole the words forming on her tongue.

All they needed to do was look at Ash to know that his feelings and thoughts mirrored their own. It was as if his hands had met a wall, his trembling fingers unable to close the last few inches between him and one of his oldest friends. The memory of the jolt was all too fresh in his mind; fear stayed his hands.

No further bolts leapt from his starter's fur but the initial spark and the risk of another one was all that was needed to immobilize him. Pain gradually overtook the fear that had taken residence on Ash's face. Dawn's breath hitched when Ash forced his hand onto Pikachu's body.

Nothing. There were no flashes of light or bolts of lightning. Nevertheless, Brock found that the sudden tension in his body refused to leave.

Ash turned Pikachu until the two were face-to-face; the moment for him was oddly reminiscent of the start of their journey after the Spearow attack. Except this time Pikachu's eyes were not open. In fact, if Ash didn't know any better, he could've sworn that his starter was blissfully asleep. The hand on Pikachu's body lowered and lifted slightly — a sign that he was still breathing.

"I think he's okay." Ash exhaled, the air that filled his lungs refreshing and exhilarating him. Brock moved over as he hastily checked the electric starter's vitals — not out of sloppiness but out of fear; Pikachu was a live wire that could be reenergized without warning. Satisfied that Pikachu's vitals were okay, he nodded in affirmation to the trainer.

"Ash, you should probably stay here while we get the other pokémon," Dawn suggested.

"Guys, I told you, I can walk just fine!" Ash countered as he pushed himself to his feet.

"If you're heading out, then I'd imagine you'll want to take Pikachu with you," Brock said. He then pointed to the inert form of the pokémon. "We really shouldn't move him around. Not when he's in that state."

Brock's reasoning stole some of the fire in his eyes, Ash's gaze lowered to the ground before relinquishing a nod. "Right…" Ash sighed, handing them some of his pokéballs.

"We'll bring them back as soon as we can," Dawn replied, taking two of the spheres while Brock grabbed three.

* * *

><p>Brock had found Croagunk and Sudowoodo within the first few minutes of his search. Both of them were unconscious and surrounded by the remains of the forest. Despite the environmental havoc and a few scrapes, his remaining pokémon looked okay. A line of toppled trunks, jagged stumps and even uprooted trees ended where Ash's Turtwig and Gliscor lay still.<p>

Finding Chimchar wasn't difficult considering the blazing trail he had left behind. The scent of burning wood and smoke filled the night air like incense and while it wasn't an awful smell, it wasn't pleasant either. Tiny embers crowned the tips of leafless branches hanging over the trail of scorched earth. Brock had found it hard to believe that the cause of the destruction was a foot tall fire chimp, not a plane crash

As luck would have it, Brock found the fire chimp sprawled out atop a blackened section of earth. Getting closer he could see Chimchar's flame tail sputtering like dying campfire.

As he approached, the trainer flinched backwards as waves of heat radiating off the open flame on the chimp's rear washed over him. While heat had always emanated from Chimchar's body, this time it was much more intense than Brock was accustomed to dealing with. He quickly gave up trying to find the pokémon's pulse; just placing his hands in the Chimp pokémon's vicinity was like sticking them into an active oven.

Brock aimed the pokéball at the fire starter. He watched as the energy beam connected, Chimchar dematerialized and the beam return to the sphere with its cargo.

"_He'll be safer in there…but what was with that heat? That flame was just like_…" Brock paused for a moment, as if he were fiddling with the words.

"…_the fire I cook with_…"

Pokémon flames and the normal flames he used to cook had always been treated as something separate in his mind. It was a part of his everyday life; he just accepted it as a fact like how water was wet.

But now, that he was forced to rethink his entire worldview. Brock's arm fell to his side, the pokéball still held firmly in his hands, but now shrunken to the size of a golf ball.

"_Why are the flames different_?" Brock thought. "_Surely it's not a matter of intensity. Anything hot enough to be on fire should be hot enough to cause severe burns_."

Scenes of Ash's Charizard drowning Ash and other opponents in torrents of orange flame flitted through his memory. It was certainly uncomfortable for the targets but they were never in any real danger.

"_But why!?_ _Why do pokémon flames not burn like…real flames?_" Brock's brows were now furrowed in deep thought.

It was then he realized how stupid his choice of words sounded. "_They're both real, but does this make one less real than the other? And it's not just fire; Pikachu's lightning was different too_."

Brock had long lost count of how often Ash and Team Rocket got shocked by one of Pikachu's attacks. What he had witnessed minutes ago was nothing like the lightning Ash's starter had unleashed in all the years he'd been with them. Previously, the victims of the shock would end up covered in soot and stunned but otherwise unharmed. But now, it seemed like the lightning bolts were now capable of causing real injury.

"Team Rocket!" Brock growled. Several years' worth of experiences told him that whenever things went wrong, that persistent trio was involved, if not outright responsible. The woods around him suddenly took on a foreboding tone; every tree and path hid a potential trap.

His way back to camp was slow for he had to carefully probe the ground with a stick like a blind man with a cane. "_This would be right up their alley. Knocking out our pokémon, making Pikachu and the others ripe for the picking_," he thought.

With the end of that thought, the distressing realization that he and Dawn had left Ash and Pikachu vulnerable and alone came to the forefront of his mind. Brock moved briskly through the woods, not running but not walking either. Rushing straight to their camp would blind him to the signs of a pitfall trap or a snare. And Team Rocket preyed off of that kind of recklessness.

It was a surprise when he arrived not to find Team Rocket engaged in their latest plot but Ash wearing his signature hat as well as Pikachu and the camp relatively undisturbed.

"What do you think happened?" Ash asked.

"I'm not sure yet," Brock replied, between fast breaths. "Has Dawn come back yet?"

"No, not yet." Ash then noticed the pokémon breeder's tensed muscles and nervous glances. "Brock, what's wrong?"

"I can't be sure, but I think that Team Rocket might be behind what just happened. It seems like just the kind of thing they would do."

Ash nodded, casting quick glances to the forest around them.

"Dawn!" Brock yelled out, pausing for a moment before calling out again. A faint reply came carried back on the wind. Brock rushed out into the direction of the voice until he turned back and found Ash already shadowing him with Pikachu in his arms. Brock opened his mouth to say that Ash needed to stay, but the look in the young trainer's eyes brooked no argument.

Brock moved silently through the woods. To Ash's credit, he was able to keep up pace with him without too much difficulty. They found the bluenette standing over a large figure nestled into the grass.

"Dawn…are you okay?" Ash asked, squinting through the darkness to try and make out her features. Her reaction to their presence was delayed; her focus anchored onto the figure on the ground.

"I'm fine. I found my other pokémon along with your Buizel and Staravia. They all went back into their poke balls, but when I got to Ambipom and tried returning her…" Dawn lifted and aimed the pokéball in her hand, firing a crimson beam at the purple monkey only to have it dissipate.

"I don't get it," Ash said, taking the pokéball into his hands. He felt for dents in the darkness but its smooth metal shell was unmarred. "Maybe it's broken inside?" He looked over to Brock for some support.

The breeder was already kneeling over the Long Tail pokémon, his only illumination coming from what little moonlight managed to filter through the branches overhead.

The reek of burnt hair was the first thing to reach Brock's nose as he knelt down. From what he could feel, some patches on Ambipom's body were hotter than others. He carefully rolled Ambipom onto her back and probed the skin around her neck.

Seconds painfully ticked by; Brock could feel Dawn and Ash's stares boring into his back. But no matter how deeply he pressed or how long he waited, no pressure passed beneath his fingertips. Brock's body abruptly dropped onto Ambipom, his ear pressed against her chest. Trying to hear her heartbeat became harder and harder as the sound of his own racing heart beat into his ears.

Everything he knew about pokémon anatomy seemed useless in his frantic search for something helpful. Brock lifted off her body, placing his hands onto her chest and pressing down.

"_Was it ten reps or twenty_?" Brock's gaze drifted over to Ambipom's mouth, knowing what he might have to do.

"_Now's not the time to be grossed out…but do I even need to try? How long has it been since her heart stopped, since her brain's been without oxygen_?" he thought.

"Brock," Ash began, only to flinch when the breeder's head abruptly lifted to face him. "Is…there anything we can do?"

Brock lowered his gaze to the ground; the compressions on Ambipom's chest momentarily stopped. "Uh, Y-yeah. Can Dawn and you go back to the clearing and bring back a revive from my bag? You know what it looks like, right?"

Ash nodded furiously, immediately making way towards their encampment until he noted Dawn was still standing in place. "Dawn…"

"I wanna stay." Despite the stern reply there was a fear in her voice, her gaze never leaving her pokémon.

Ash took a step towards her with his arm lifted until Brock's voice cut through the momentary quiet. "Ash, it's fine, she can stay. Just go. And bring my flashlight and a super potion as well."

The trainer nodded once more before breaking into a run. Ash's footfalls faded into the background as Brock continued his chest compressions. A heavy stillness permeated through the woods, broken only by Dawn's tremulous voice.

"Brock…what's wrong with her?" Dawn managed to choke out the words without completely falling apart as she spoke.

The breeder continued pumping on Ambipom's chest as he replied. "I…I can't say for sure, Dawn. At least not right now."

_"That's a lie!"_ Brock's conscience lashed out at him. _"That's a lie and you know it! You know exactly what's wrong! You know exactly what happened! You just don't want to believe it did. You never thought it could happen to us. It was something other people needed to worry about, never us! I wanna be wrong, but if I'm right…how am I gonna break it to them? This won't be Ash's first time facing this. But Celebi, Latios and Lucario were different. This is someone that he's known for so long. And Dawn…she's just started getting her confidence back. This'll—"_

"I'm back!" Ash yelled. Brock immediately ceased the chest compressions as Ash handed him the diamond shaped pill and super potion. Brock set down the super potion and pried open Ambipom's mouth. He quickly dropped the pill into her mouth and waited for it to take effect.

Revives were a potent cocktail of various stimulants that were designed to jumpstart the body contained inside a fast-dissolving capsule. They were pricy but Brock had always made sure to keep a few handy just in case of extreme emergencies.

"Ash, did you bring the flashlight?" Brock asked.

The trainer quickly dug into his pocket and handed it to him. He looked over to Dawn who still stood rooted to the spot he'd left her at. Brock peeled Ambipom's eyelids back and shone a beam of light directly into them. Ash watched him hold the beam there, unsure of what Brock was trying to do but he knew better than to question it.

Seconds passed and the light began to shake in the breeder's hands, moving between her eye and her mouth. Brock quickly grabbed the potion and sprayed it onto Ambipom's fur, keeping the flashlight trained on her eye. A few agonizing seconds later, he clicked the flashlight off and lowered it to his side. A shuddering sigh left him when he leaned back and fell into a sitting position. "Guys," he started. Despite his attempts at keeping his voice neutral, it came out low and dark.

"No!" Dawn's gasp reached his ears through the hand over her mouth. She already knew his response.

"Ambipom is…" Brock trailed off to find a truthful, yet tactful way to break the news. "Gone." Brock stared into the darkness where Ash was standing and debated whether or not he should continue.

His conscience lashed him again. "_They should know. They have a _right_ to know! They'd want to know. They'll ask me sooner or later. Could I lie? Would they even buy it? They're smart. They can put the pieces together. They'll know that I know too, but will they know I did it to help them? They would forgive me…but could _she_ forgive him?_"

Brock lowered his gaze to the starter in Ash's arms. Feeling he should get it out of the way now, he let out a breath and spoke. "One of Pikachu's bolts must've accidentally hit her. The electricity probably stopped Ambipom's heart. By the time you found her…" Brock trailed off as he tried to keep control of his emotions. "She would've already been...it would've been painless, Dawn."

Dawn was unnaturally still as Ash got up and slowly backed away from the body. Despite his efforts to mitigate the damage, Brock couldn't help but feel he'd somehow made it worse. Ash didn't stop backing up until the fabric of his outfit pressed against the bark of a nearby tree. The coordinator slowly lowered herself to the floor, her breathing growing more and more shallow.

A pained hiss rushed through Ash's gritted teeth as he pulled his cap over his eyes with his free arm. He lifted his head, taking deep breaths through his nose.

Dawn was not so quiet with her grief; her cries grew louder with every ragged intake of breath. The sounds tore through them like knives.

In an attempt to prevent his emotions from exploding, Ash allowed himself to release a mix between a cough and cry. He slid down the tree as he desperately tried to shore up his crumbling composure.

The corners of Brock's eyes began to moisten as he pressed the butt of his palm to his forehead. Brock wept silently as he shook his head, grateful for the darkness that shrouded him and let him save face. Machismo aside; he was supposed to be the strong one of their group; the mature one. If they saw him cry it would only make the situation worse, so he had to keep calm. For their sake.

Brock moved away from Ambipom's body and made his way to Dawn, who had now fallen onto her side and curled into a sobbing ball. He placed his hand on her and felt her flinch beneath his palm.

"It's gonna be okay," said a hoarse voice he didn't recognize, until he realized it was his own. "It's gonna be okay." But those words felt hollow; simple platitudes that even he didn't believe. He pulled Dawn off the ground and into his arms, letting her unleash her muffled screams into his shoulder as she wept. She fought him at first, her tiny fists pushing and beating against his chest until they weakened and snaked along his waist as she embraced him back.

At times her cries were so loud that his ears rang; her nails dug through the fabric and into his back. But despite the insults his body had taken, he held on as tightly as he could, telling her over and over again that it would be okay, each time sounding more pathetic than the last.

* * *

><p>"Jessie, wait!" James cried out from the cockpit of the grounded ship. Jessie stomped away quickly, her arms swinging like pendulums as she tried to put as 0much distance between her and the scene of the massacre. James begrudgingly left the aircraft, noting that the whine of the engines hadn't even died down. "Jessie. Stop. Where are you going?"<p>

"I don't know and I don't care anymore!" she ground out between gritted teeth.

James grabbed her wrist only to have it wrenched out of his grip. He then wrapped his arms around her body, halting her advance. The way she thrashed against him, screeching at him to let him go, made him feel as though his touch was poisonous. When her pleas did nothing to release her, she let her volcanic temper take the place of desperate pleas. She stabbed her heel at James's feet and slammed her head back in hopes of connecting with his face.

"Jessie, we need to go back." James carefully dodged the blows. He gritted his teeth but did not slacken his grip as one of Jessie's stomps connected with his booted foot.

"Why should I!?"

"Seviper might still be alive. He's hurt but he and Meowth need help. We need to get them to a pokémon center soon."

James's words must have done the trick. Jessie's body suddenly slumped into his hold, forcing him to slowly lower her to the ground. After a few heartbeats, he removed his arms from her and backed away, the lack of moonlight making it difficult to make her out in the darkness.

"Are we cursed?" She struggled with the words.

James mentally froze. Part of him wanted to immediately tell her they weren't, that the very idea of a curse upon them was outlandish. And yet, the longer he thought about their time together in the last four years, he could see why she would think that. Doubt cradled his every potential reply, leaving him silent for far too many seconds.

"Are we not meant to be happy?" The low, dark tone of her voice was starting to scare him now.

"No, Jess," the bluenette replied weakly. "It's just—"

"—then why is it that every time we try to do something, it literally blows up in our faces? We try and catch the twerp's Pikachu for years, failing each and every time. And now when we wanna do something other than failing we _still _get screwed?" The redhead's voice was a faint and cold whisper. "Just as we're trying to get away from them and climb out of the hole we dug for ourselves, we just get kicked back in!

"It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not _fair_!" Each repeat rose in volume and pitch as it was punctuated by the sound of her fist slamming into the dirt. Eventually, the emotional dam burst and Jessie unleashed a tortured scream, the likes of which James had never heard from her before in all the years of their partnership.

James was about to move in when she stopped and lifted her hand with pained and twitching fingers. Jessie's heavy breaths drowned out the distant drone of Krickitot in the woods. A cloud shifted lazily overhead, letting the light from the moon filter in through the trees. Over the years he had seen Jessie in countless costumes and dozens of hairstyles. She'd been burnt, battered, drenched and rendered nearly bald from some of the attacks she had taken. All of those years of abuse had not prepared him for her current appearance.

Without the consistent and frequent application of her hairspray, the integrity of her coiffure had fallen apart like a house of cards. Long magenta tresses hung over her face, strips of her rosy tinged face peeked through the gaps. Whatever vestige of makeup that had survived their earlier bout was now gone, the last of her mascara staining the tears on her cheeks. But it was the look in her eyes that pierced him like an arrow.

_Pitiful_.

While there was no malice in the word as it came to him, the fact that it was the first word to pop into his mind pained him. Jessie had been many things to him and while at times the things she said or wanted could be considered pitiful; never had he looked at her and associated that word with the entirety of her being.

He'd spent his own fair share with the homeless in his attempts to stay one step ahead of his parents and Jessebelle. Looking at them reminded him that they had started with less than he had, fallen farther in their failures and been on the streets longer than he had been in a home. The unforgiving trials they had gone through were practically etched into their eyes. And now, those same eyes now stared back at him from Jessie's blue pools.

Could he even blame her? If their last failure had cracked her resolve, then the recent events had now shattered it. The Jessie that could pull him out of the deepest of funks; now the one who always knew what to do in the face of defeat was broken.

"_I can't expect her to bounce back from this, at least not now. She's always the one pulling my butt out of the fire, so I should be able to do the same for her._"

"We're not beaten yet, Jessie. We can still get the ship to the nearest pokémon center and have our pokémon healed," he said. His voice was resolute and firm with confidence. How much of it was real and how much of it was a sham for his fellow operative's sake was hard to tell.

The look she gave him — as if she didn't believe or trust a single word he had said — was painful. Rather than take it personally, he decided he would just need to convince her with more than just words. He held his hand out to her and gave her with a weak smile.

"Leave me alone, James. I want to be alone right now. Just go, I'll be fine," she muttered back.

James shook his head and kept smiling, "Leaving you alone right now is the last thing that you need. You've never truly given up on me, so you can't expect me to do that. Don't make me pick you up."

Jessie gave him a look that practically said, "_I'd like to see you try_." Her lips gave the tiniest of movements in what James imagined could be the stirrings of a smile. It wasn't much, but he took it as the first spark; now he just needed to fan the flames.

"I'm not asking you to get back on the ship with me, I'll do that. Just stay by the ship and I'll handle the rest."

Jessie stared at his hand for a long while before tentatively reaching up to grab it. James helped her up, keeping his hand wrapped around hers as they walked back. The aircraft quickly came back into view as they neared the clearing; the sight of it invoked a slight tug of resistance on his arm. James stopped and turned, Jessie's eyes were already filled with uncertainty as a chilly breeze blew through them.

Her gaze turned quizzical as James started to remove his gloves, then incredulous when he started lifting his shirt over his head to reveal the black one underneath.

"I know you don't want to go onto the ship, so you can stay here. It looks like it's gonna be kinda chilly so you can use this if you want." James passed her the shirt he had removed.

Jessie stared down at the article of clothing in her hands for a moment before her looking back to him.

"I know it's not much, but it might help a bit," James added as he put his gloves back on and made his way back towards the aircraft.

* * *

><p>James made his way through the slaughter, bending down to pick up Mime Jr.'s unconscious form. He pressed his ear over the tiny mime's chest and rejoiced at the sound of a steady heartbeat. With a flash of light, he was returned back into his pokéball and pocketed.<p>

He suppressed a wave of nausea as he saw the remains of Jessie's Yanmega. He quickly turned away from Yanmega and Wobbuffet, lest he vomit up what little was in his stomach. Seviper was quickly returned to his pokéball in hopes that he would heal on his own.

James kneeled down to look over Meowth's body. He frowned; he wasn't sure if getting any closer was safe. While the Scratch Cat pokémon appeared to be in a deep slumber, James had just watched him slash through several seat cushions like the tough fabric was no more resistant than tissue paper. His green eyes lifted up to stare at the dent in the metal wall. Meowth looked fine on the outside but an impact of that magnitude could still leave internal injuries.

He inched his hand over, surprised at the way his own hand trembled as it drew closer. It dawned on him that this might be the first time that he feared for his own life because of Meowth. Some part of him kept imagining Meowth coming to and resuming his feral assault. Even as James felt for a pulse along the cat's wrist the goose bumps refused to leave.

"What happened to all of you?" James whispered, his gaze sweeping across the ship's grisly interior. A good part of him was still processing what he was seeing; the magnitude of what had just happened had yet to fully hit him. He couldn't afford to let it hit him now. Or rather, Jessie couldn't afford for him to be hit by it fully now.

Were he to lose control, he knew he would dissolve into a pathetic mess of tears and cries. Which was the complete opposite of what they needed now. To the best of his ability, he suppressed thoughts that might bring him over the edge. He'd deal with those thoughts later.

He moved from Meowth over to his decapitated Carnivine, having left him for last. In his opinion, Carnivine had been the least graphic of their party's deaths. A clear, viscous fluid dribbled out of the stalk of his neck and body.

And yet, the longer he stared down at his former pokémon, the stronger the dull ache in his chest grew. James figured he should've felt worse at Carnivine's passing but the fact remained that their time apart had created some distance. He had forgotten that Carnivine had even existed until they reached his family's summer home in the Sinnoh region. For years, Carnivine had lain inside a poke ball, buried under a collection of bottle caps within a chest.

He certainly had fond memories with Carnivine as a child, having caught him in the Great Marsh near Pastoria. Around that time, Jessebelle had been given an Oddish in an attempt to give the two of them something to talk about and hopefully bring them closer together. Wanting nothing in common with her, James had later asked to have a fire-type, which was how Growlie came into his life and why Carnivine was left in Sinnoh.

While Carnivine was one of few bright moments in his boyhood, it was still but a pinprick in the night sky of his time with Jessebelle and his parents. Having no pokémon on hand at the time, Carnivine had joined the team more out of necessity than nostalgia. There was nothing wrong with Carnivine; he was just as loyal and affectionate as Growlie, but if James were honest with himself, he'd rather not have a living reminder of the past.

"_Out of sight, out of mind_" was one of James's philosophies when it came to his problems.

He had so desperately wanted to bring Growlie with him — not just as a childhood companion but as a member of the team like Mime Jr. — but the Growlithe was a remnant of the old life he so desperately wanted to flee. Just looking at him would be a constant reminder that his parents and Jessebelle were still out there; still hunting him down to bring him back.

"It wasn't your fault. You did nothing wrong," James said into the silence. It was the action of a madman, talking to Carnivine's corpse. But he felt that he needed to say this or it would eat at him till the end of his days.

"You were…are, my best friend. I hope you knew that. I hope you knew I loved you." His view of the world began to shimmer more and more with every word. "I don't think I ever said that to you, and if I did it wasn't nearly enough." It began to dawn on him that he hadn't just lost a pokémon or a comrade. He had lost his childhood friend; he had lost a family member.

James took a shaky breath as he knelt down and pulled off his glove. The surface of Carnivine's head was smooth and cold, though he figured it had never been all that warm before. He tried to replicate the sound of Carnivine's voice in his mind, the way he looked at him when he gave him one of those big toothy grins. As soon as the images came into view, they faded away, leaving behind dim phantoms of the original memory. James let the tears fall freely now, feeling them slide down his cheeks and hang from his chin.

"I just want to say…thanks." James suppressed a sob so he could make it through his eulogy. "For everything you did for me. I wish…I wish I could pay you back, all the pain you've gone through for my sake. Just like before, I'm going to need you to wait for me. I can't promise we'll see each other soon but Growlie and I will meet up with you wherever you are…" James let his tears fall freely as he spoke. "And when you see me, you can nibble on my head again."

* * *

><p>A gloved fist slammed against the aircraft's communication controls. James moved his hand away, noting the lack of any dent in the material — not that it mattered. Just underneath where his fist had landed was a series of holes from his Carnivine's Bullet Seed, ruining the electronics that would have let the pilot phone in their situation to command.<p>

Their own comlink was less than helpful; a machine answered him due to all the other lines being busy at the moment. It led him in circles, asking him if he was in one kind of situation or another. None of them really seemed applicable and even those that did apply ended up leading him into another session of pointless questions answered by the press of one or two.

James slumped into the — thankfully, clean — copilot seat. Aside from the blood and gore that blanketed half of the flight deck, most of the aircraft appeared intact. The altimeter, artificial horizon and GPS had been left undamaged. If the fuel gauge could be trusted, there was a good chance they could make it to Canalave and even a little further. A glance at the pilot's bloodied seat was a reminder that there were other, more pressing matters.

Mime Jr. and Seviper were no longer a part of that problem, having been returned to their respective pokéballs. Burying Carnivine next came to mind; the question then quickly became where to bury him? He would've liked to have done so by his family's summer home or the Great Marsh. But he wasn't sure if he had the time or fuel to do so.

"_Could I bury him here? In some nameless part of the woods? Would I even find this place again? Where would I even bury him in Canalave?_" Being always on the move had its downsides; this had been one of the ones that that James had preferred not to think about.

His friend aside, what would be done for Jessie's teammates? As much as she complained about the Patient pokémon, she really did care about Wobbuffet. He'd been a part of the team for years and James had gotten used to hearing him chime in at the end of their motto; so much so that doing it without his contribution sounded off. His death would strike Jessie _hard_…if it already hadn't. Though he wasn't sure he could say the same about Yanmega. Being the newest member of the team, she had only been with them for a short period of time.

Meowth was where things started getting complicated.

Unlike most Team Rocket field agent teams that had a pokémon mascot, Meowth was not their pokémon in the sense of them being his trainers. For all intents and purposes, he was another Team Rocket operative, with the attendant rights and responsibilities. He could — and often did — place orders for whatever materiel they needed to pull off their latest scheme. Nearly all the mechas they had requested were customized with controls specifically designed to fit Meowth's physique. In fact, he had even shown some aptitude in engineering as they had previously used several gadgets that were of his own original design.

"_Meowth might be safer in a pokéball, but putting him into one would mean I would need to catch him with one_." James wasn't sure how he felt about that. It had been years since their initial meeting that the thought had even crossed his mind, if ever so briefly. "_How would Meowth feel about that? I could just release him once this is all over. Maybe I'm overthinking it_."

James mentally switched the roles of trainer and pokémon. He frowned as he took the thought experiment to its logical — and distasteful — conclusion. To be captured — even if eventually released — meant that he was owned and possessed like an object. The mental experiment had opened his eyes to a whole new perspective. The way he saw their job and how their world functioned was changing before his eyes.

Meowth wasn't the brightest pokémon around but he was definitely smarter than average. Even then, the average pokémon was fairly intelligent by human standards. He had met people that were dumber than pokémon. Conversely, he was almost certain that there were pokémon smarter than he could ever hope to be.

The capacity for them to be just as smart as people was there but for whatever reason they weren't being given that chance. If that was the case, then it wasn't just the fact that they were stealing pokémon from other people that was starting to bother him. It was the fact that the rest of the world was taking intelligent creatures and—

"Team Rocket!"

James felt the blood drain from his face. The cold hand of dread wrapped around his spine and poured ice into his veins. The effect was brief as the dismay gave way to rage. James stormed out of the cockpit and out of the aircraft, his lips fixed into a snarl.

"_It…it can't be. No, nonononono! NO! Anyone but them!_" James seethed quietly until the three shadowed figures came into view. He didn't even have to peer through the darkness to know who it was.

"_Of course it's them. It's always them. How could it be anything but them? Even when we're trying to leave them alone they get in the way_." Some part of him found the humor in the situation because the scowl morphed into a smile.

Jessie had long since migrated over to the ship, leaning against it as she waited for James to finish whatever he was doing inside. Now she worried that she had let him take on too much on his own. A laugh started in the back of his throat, working its way past his lips despite his best efforts to hold it in. It was a frustrated and tired laugh at first before it bordered onto something hysterical.

"What did you do!?" one of the figures screamed. He recognized the voice as belonging to the twerp with the Pikachu.

The manic lilt in James's voice dissolved with the accusation. "We haven't done anything to you!" James roared back with a rage that Jessie rarely ever saw from him.

"Liar!" the twerpette screeched at them with equal amounts of loathing.

"Every time something bad happens, you guys are always involved in some way," the oldest twerp added. Despite the neutral and calm voice he spoke with, there was a barely restrained rage and utter contempt for them in his voice.

James, Jessie and Meowth had done practically everything possible to them over the years; they had stolen from them, trapped them, lied to them, even attacked their families, but yet nothing had inspired the hate that radiated from them now.

"If you must know, we were trying to get away from you. We were tired of having our plans foiled; tired of being electrocuted, and most of all we were tired of being blasted off. We were done with you and your Pikachu." James turned his nose up, returning the contemptuous tone.

The Twerp Trio was quiet for a moment, glaring at them until the oldest one finally broke the silence.

"Why should we even trust you or anything you say?"

"We don't care if you trust us. We don't care what you think we did. All we wanted was to never see you and your Pikachu again for as long as we lived. We were on our way out of here when our pokémon started attacking everything. Now three of our pokémon are dead." James's voice began to crack as he said the words; the aura of malice from the twerps was beginning to dissipate.

"Meowth's hurt." There was pain in his voice now. "We want to get him to a pokémon center and make sure he's going to be all right." Jessie watched her partner's voice peter out with the slump of his arms; years of fatigue now showed on his face. Out of the three, James was the one who was the most honest with his feelings. While she wasn't sure why he was telling the twerps so much, it seemed to have the desired effect.

Jessie watched the twerps join together with their backs to them, quick and unintelligible whispers reaching her ears. They argued for a while, throwing them cautious glances ever few seconds. James made his way over to her and squatted down to her level.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Jessie nodded and sighed. "Would you believe I almost started doing the motto when the twerps found me?"

James gave a weak smile, noting that she had taken to wearing his shirt over hers. "Old habits are hard to break."

"When you said three pokémon…" Jessie let the question hang in the air over them as James mulled over how to phrase his next words.

"Yanmega and Carnivine…there was no way to save them."

Jessie closed her eyes as she bowed her head. "I'm sorry about Carnivine. I know it must've been hard for…are you okay?"

"I'll be all okay." Jessie noticed his word choice, but didn't press any further.

"Wobbuffet?" she asked.

James exhaled through his nose. "Since none of the seeds hit his brain I figured he'd be okay but I don't know Wobbuffet's anatomy that well and I don't know if any of his vitals were hit. He lost a lot of blood. I could've tried to patch him up to try and stop the bleeding but with the amount he's lost, by the time we reached a pokémon center, I don't know if they would've been able to do anything."

Jessie drew her knees up to her chin and buried her face in the gap between them. Strangled gasps escaped as she tried to keep her composure.

He was about to touch her shoulder with his hand until someone called out his name. The bluenette looked up and found that the squinty-eyed twerp had approached them.

"I have some medical knowledge and supplies that might help some of your pokémon. If you let me take a look at them—"

"—Can you save Wobbuffet?" Jessie quickly interjected, her eyes brimming with tears and hope.

"I'll see what I can do," Brock said softly before following James as they made their way around the ship. Once they had made their way to the other side of the craft, James stopped and faced the breeder.

"Inside is really…" James looked to the ground, struggling to find an appropriate word that could fully encapsulate the carnage inside. When the grass gave him no answers, he sighed. "Bad," he lamely finished. It was an almost comedic understatement but what else could he say?

"James, level with me. Did you know that any of this was going to happen?" Brock asked.

The Rocket member shook his head. "If we had known anything like this was going to happen, we would've done things differently. The pilot who was supposed to take us to Canalave was killed when our pokémon went crazy. We might not be our boss's favorite field agents; but I'd like to think he'd of warned our pilot."

"Okay," Brock replied, the answer seeming to satisfy him for the moment. He was about to go in when James stopped him once more.

"After everything we've done to you, why would you help us?" the field agent asked.

"I'm not so much helping you as I'm helping your pokémon. If I can keep one more pokémon from dying tonight…"

"What happened to us…did you and the twerps?"

Brock's head ever so slightly nodded. "Pikachu...he lost control and started shocking everything around him. We barely got away but we had to leave our pokémon behind. When we came back, the rest of our pokémon are fine, but Dawn's Ambipom...the lightning must've hit her and...this is the first time Dawn's ever lost a pokémon."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Brock faced at him for a moment and James could tell that their history and his sincere apology battled in his mind. Eventually the breeder said nothing back and made his way into the aircraft's interior.

Brock's initial reaction to the ship's interior was not unexpected. James watched him run out immediately and retch onto the grass a few meters from the aircraft. He couldn't blame him considering he had nearly done the same; the only difference was that he'd had the better part of an hour to grow somewhat numb to the sight of it. Brock hadn't been given that luxury; the sight and smell had hit him all at once like blows of an enraged Primeape. Whatever they had gone through hadn't nearly been as gruesome as the two field agents' experience.

It took some time for Brock to come back to the craft and work through his nausea. James tried to help, dragging the bodies of Carnivine and the pilot out of the plane. In the end, James felt his efforts to be worse than useless as the pilot's body left a wet crimson streak wherever it was hauled. Removing Yanmega from the aircraft would have required him to literally scrape her remains off the bulkheads and floor.

Little by little, Brock was able to acclimate himself to the scene and — to James's great surprise and relief — determined that Wobbuffet was still alive. Using a super potion to seal the wounds and stabilize his condition, James was able to return him back into his pokéball to heal. There was no guarantee that Wobbuffet's blue skin would heal unmarred. Or if he'd ever be able to fight again. But James knew that Jessie wouldn't care; she would simply be relieved to know that he would live to see another day.

Several hours passed as he and Brock worked into the night. Despite the hits Meowth and Seviper had taken, Brock assured him that they would be okay. After talking it over with Jessie, they agreed to offer the twerps a ride to Hearthome City where they could all get their pokémon some medical attention.

The twerps were reluctant at first until Jessie reminded them of the times that they had worked together against a common enemy or obstacle. This — and the promise to not try stealing their pokémon — didn't suddenly remove years of accumulated bad blood between them but in the end, they ultimately accepted their offer.

It was then that James's comlink began to beep, indicating an incoming call. They had been talking as it rang faintly in background. It wasn't until all of them stopped talking that they noticed the noise and looked around to see where it was coming from. Without a word, James ran off with the rest following him. As if by unspoken agreement, they stopped at the open hatch of the tilt-rotor aircraft.

A full minute passed as they waited for him; the slowness of his footsteps as he made his way back to them seemed to be an ill omen. They were about to ask who had contacted him. Instead of saying anything, he gestured for them to be quiet and held out the comlink, its tinny voice deafening in the early morning air.

"_This is your leader, Giovanni. I am issuing a nationwide recall of all our members. Effective immediately, all Rocket agents and scientists are to suspend all current projects and return to Kanto. I repeat. This is your leader Giovanni. I am issuing a—"_


End file.
